


be my captive

by leafygreenturtle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Plugs, BDSM, Bondage, Brief Mentions of Fisting, Cockwarming, Consensual Somnophilia, Degradation, Dom Rhys, Exhibitionism, F/M, Female Masturbation, Genital Piercing, Kinktober 2020, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Smut, Somnophilia, Voyeurism, Wax Play, Whipping, brief mentions of orgy, consensual voyeurism, orgy vibes, sub feyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: Feyre shares a fantasy with Rhys in which she roleplays as his captive, and he makes it come true.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	be my captive

_“You want to play as my—what? Captive?” Rhysand’s soft grin agajnst her ear ignited her core, and it was an effort to keep her breathing even as she shrugged, even as his hands continued their slow journey across her waist._

_“Is that—something you want?” She tried not to look too eager. She wanted this so badly, had wanted it for so long, but it was only after a bottle of wine and some gentle coaxing from her mate that she’d had the nerve to share it with Rhys._

_He kissed her ear, slow and sensual, until all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears, and the pounding of her core._

_“I want everything you want. I want to know every fantasy you have, and I want to make it come true. I want to watch you writhing in pleasure while you say my name.”_

_“Is that a yes?”_

 _He claimed her mouth in a kiss, searing and swift. “Yes, Feyre darling.”_

Now, Feyre was laying on a smooth marble table of sorts, the cold stone making her shiver in her barely-there negligees. She was wearing a black lace undergarment set, the back criss-crossed with straps, and the bottoms crotchless.

She felt every slight breeze, and it made her hair stand up straight.

She was laying exposed and bare for all to see in the Court of Nightmares, Rhys’s throne a few feet away on that towering dais. It sat empty—for now. Rhys had not entered yet.

She had been positioned on her back, and had been instructed to hold her legs apart, spread wide for the viewing pleasure of anyone who might be seeing her.

She didn’t know how long she was supposed to wait. The anticipation of it had her stomach in nerves, and she thought that if Rhys didn’t arrive soon, she would lose her mind.

She tried to ignore the other people in the room. Voyeurs, hand-selected by her mate and approved by her, though that didn’t do anything to make them look any less foreboding now, as they stood fully clothed in the room. Some were watching brazenly, some were leering, some were looking on in disgust at the blatant display of lewdness. Her cheeks burned, and she felt herself growing wet.

There was a small revel happening around her, music playing, and people dancing to heavy, fast-paced music, but she was the centerpiece of the evening. The High Lord’s plaything.

She felt his presence before she heard a hushed silence fall over the room. The music stopped, the dancing stopped. Heart thundering in her chest, she remembered to play her part and kept her gaze fixated on the sky.

“Well, well,” Rhys said, his voice dark with just a hint of amusement. “Who do we have here?”

“Feyre Cursebreaker,” one of the High Fae guards answered, a hint of a sneer creeping into his voice. “Captured along with the other prisoners.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, High Lord.”

She gasped as his fingers gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. She hadn’t heard him move.

Rhys’s mouth turned up in a smirk, as if he knew it too. As if he could hear every raging beat inside her chest.

Still, she didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare attract the attention of the predator that had just walked into the throne room.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his hand still gripping her.

“Feyre,” she said.

He released her, only to run a finger down the side of her cheek. She trembled. He ran that finger down her breasts, flicking a nipple there.

She bit her lip, trying not to move, trying not to make a sound.

His hand slid lower, taunting and teasing her as he stroked along her abdomen, before going lower, and running a finger through her slick folds.

She was flush with embarrassment at how wet she was, despite being barely touched.

He laughed, then brought the slick finger to her mouth.

She resisted it, kept her mouth clamped firmly shut, but that only made him more amused.

“You’re not very tame, are you?”

“I’m a person, not a horse,” she snapped, seeming to find her voice all of a sudden. Here was a male who was imprisoning her, making her his harlot.

He grinned, but she felt, all of a sudden, a wave of calmness wash over her. She felt her mouth want to open, felt her body want to submit.

When he slipped his finger in, she sucked her wetness clean from him.

Then realization hit her. He’d used magic on her. To make her _pliant._

She bit down on his finger, and was pleased to hear him hiss out a displeased breath.

But a moment later, that grin was back. “You’re a fiesty one.”

“You used magic on me,” she said accusingly.

He stepped back from her, brazenly staring at her. His gaze lingered on her breasts.

“If you behave, I won’t have to.”

There it was again. That language. _Tame, fiesty, behave—_

She opened her mouth to snipe something back, but he said, “Keep your legs spread.”

She realized she’d let them fall shut, and her cheeks heated as she spread them wide for him again. He made a point of looking her over between her legs, and she felt a rush of wetness down there. He didn’t miss it, but didn’t comment on it either.

Rhys was still smiling at her. She fought not to scowl.

But his gaze drifted to the guard. “I want her pierced,” he said, his hand brushing both her nipples. Then, lower, to the sensitive bud between her legs. She stiffened in fear. What—

“If you or your brute try to touch me—” she seethed.

“Mouthy too,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Gag her as well.” Her mouth dropped open in shock, but he wasn’t done.

“I want her plugged, and...put her in some chains.” Her surveyed her, as if assessing whether he wanted anything else, and then, satisfied, he turned to the guard again.

“If she doesn’t cooperate,” he said, with a smirk and a glance tossed in her direction, “Feel free to use this.”

He snapped his fingers and something appeared in the palm of his hand.

A horse whip.

Leering slightly, the guard took it from him. “Yes, High Lord.”

Feyre felt like her mind was buzzing. _A whip._ She remembered what she’d told him.

_I’m a person, not a horse._

Bastard. She glanced at him, and saw the laughter and mirth dancing in his eyes. He’d done it on purpose.

“Send her to my room when you’re done.” With that, he was gone.

She started. His room. What would he do with her there? Her stomach churned, half in anticipation, half in dread.

A sudden painful, stinging sensation between her legs made her cry out. The guard was holding the whip he’d just used on her, and grinning.

“Keep your legs spread, whore.”

She hadn’t realized she’d let them fall shut again.

An hour later, she was in his room. It was so dark, she could barely make out the outlines of the furniture here, the darkness no doubt courtesy of his own magic.

She was uncomfortably contorted, her body stuffed and pulled and prodded until she forgot what it even felt like to be free. To not be—whatever this was.

The door creaked open, and then shut. The dim lights came on, and Rhys was before her.

If she had been able to speak, she would have snapped at him.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile. “They did a good job with you.”

She wanted to rip his head off. Prick, prick, prick.

He lifted a hand to finger the obsidian black cock in her mouth, strapped to her head so she couldn’t push it out, couldn’t do anything but take it deep inside her. Her mouth throbbed in pain at being stretched open around such a huge length, and she could feel drool dripping down her chin, onto her chest.

He spread some of it over her face, laughing softly. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long for me.”

_Bastard._ He knew. He’d kept her waiting like this on purpose. Likely enjoyed the thought of her tied up, uncomfortable, and wet for him.

Her eyes must have conveyed her anger, because he laughed again. But then his fingers trailed lower, to her breasts, red and puffy from being recently piercing. They were attached to nipple clamps that were on one end of a long metal chain dangling from her chest. Rhys picked it up and tugged on it.

Once, twice. Her body arched forward, her breasts barking in pain, and if she could have cried out against the gag in her mouth, she would have.

His hand went lower, to the sensitive nub between her legs. “You didn’t want this pierced. I wonder why. Was it because of the pain?” Her breath was coming out of her in swift, shallow pants. She told herself it was from fear, and not from the other, secondary emotion now warring inside her. 

She heard the snap of a whip and flinched. Her fear was thick and tangible in the room. 

“But I think you like pain, Feyre. Don’t you?” 

This time, when the whip cracked, it landed across her backside. She jolted in her restraints as much as she could, a cry slipping free. The pain was searing, and it knocked the breath from her. For a moment, she heard and saw nothing else except that single lash. 

He struck again, and again, and again. She was gasping, trembling. The heat was rushed through her almost made her dizzy. 

“I wonder what hurts most for you right now,” he mused. “Is it this?” His hand brushed over the gag he’d touched earlier. He jerked it a little, the movement making her choke as her throat tried to cough up and spit out the cock, but the strap forced it back in, and her eyes teared up as it was shoved down her throat again.

“This?” Again, he tugged on the chain attached to her breasts. This time, he did it so hard, she did cry out against the gag in her mouth, the sound of it muffled.

“This?” His hand reached down between her legs to where the piercing was, and he pinched the sensitive skin there. Too hard. She whined. 

“Or this?” His hand probed the pucker of her asshole, where, true to his word, the guard had plugged her. She tried not to think about, how uncomfortably full she felt, how it had hurt and bled when it had gone inside. Rhys tugged on it now, pulling it free just a few inches, then shoving it back inside her. Hard.

She whimpered in pain, her whole body feeling raw and sensitive.

“Or maybe it’s this,” he said, finally touching the base of the cock inside her, attached to the long pole she was standing impaled on. The hard length of the plastic dick inside her was uncomfortably long and thick, forcing her onto her tiptoes so she wouldn’t sink further down on it.

“Are you tired yet?” he asked. “I can get you some heels, if you ask nicely.”

He chuckled again. “That is, if you can talk at all.”

But Rhys was done talking to himself, it seemed. He reached behind her head to unbuckle the gag. The sensation of having it pulled out of her throat had her choking again, more drool spilling out of her. Rhys didn’t pull it out immediately though, instead fucking her throat with it.

“Show me how would suck my cock,” he said, his eyes darkening as some of his self control slipped the leash and she saw how she affected him. Her eyes dropped to his pants, where he was indeed straining against the black material.

Her eyes fell shut as she let him move the fake cock in and out of her throat, and when she opened them again, he’d pulled it out at last.

With the cock out of her throat now, she had less to distract her from the strain on her legs, and though she hated that he could see her discomfort, she couldn’t help herself from shifting from foot to foot, trying to relieve some of the pressure from having to stand on her toes.

He caught the movement, and raised his brows. “I meant what I said. Ask nicely, and I’ll bring you some heels.”

Her voice was raw as she said, “Go to hell.”

He shrugged. “Have it your way.”

Prick. Bastard. “Wait.”

He turned, brow raising again, and waited. 

She glared at him. “ _Please_ bring me some heels.”

He laughed, but true to his word, snapped his fingers and a pair of black, fuck-me heels appeared in his hand. He set them on the floor, and knelt before her.

Her heart began racing again, though she had no idea why. But the image of him, kneeling before her, the dark head that was missing a crown, between her legs-

He looked up at her, violet eyes sparking with mischief, and she knew he could read her as easily as an open book. 

His fingers brushed her foot, and she held her breath. He slid her foot into the shoe, and then set it down on the ground again, his touch deceivingly gentle, despite the rough callouses on them. He did the same to her other foot, then looked up at her again. 

The pressure on her legs was gone, but her thoughts were not on that fact as she watched him, breathless.

He was still on his knees, his hands wrapped around the back of her calves. Such an innocuous touch, but-

“Better?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t think she had the voice. He rose to his feet anyway, and ran a hand down her side, skimming her ribs. 

She swallowed, every beat of her heart pounding in her ears. 

“What do you want, Feyre?” 

But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not like this, not now, so she said instead, “I want to eat. Then I want to sleep.”

He grinned, hands dropping to his sides again. “Of course. If that’s what you want.” The last part was thrown at her like a taunt, but she didn’t care. 

He lifted her off the bar she was standing on, and the smooth, hard length in her slid free. Then he took the plug out of her ass out.

Her legs trembled as she stood, for the first time, with nothing inside her. With the heels, she felt disoriented enough to fall over, but she kept her balance as he looked her over.

He didn’t take off the nipple clamps, and the chain still dangled down her chest. He jerked his chin at the bed on the other side of the room. His bed. It was huge, and canopied, though everything was tastefully decorated.

“I said I wanted to eat-”

“You can eat after this.” When she still didn’t move, he said again, “Bed.” And this time, there was no arguing with that tone.

She didn’t bother asking why he didn’t restrain her, why he wasn’t afraid she would try to run. She could feel his power, his magic, rumbling around the entire palace like an untamed beast. Everything, and everyone in this place bowed to him, bent to him. 

She sat on the bed, and watched him come around to her side of it with a pair of cuffs, attached to a long chain. 

Silently, he took her wrist and cuffed it to the bedframe. The chain was long, allowing her ample movement. Which meant it was mostly for aesthetic purposes.

Of course. Someone as arrogant as him would never consider the possibility that they would need to keep her restrained to keep her from leaving. She fought not to scowl.

He left the other hand free, and she realized the reason for it a moment later, when he said, “Touch yourself.”

Heat flooded her cheeks again, and she froze. 

He said nothing, using his eyes said enough. I’m waiting. 

Slowly, she spread her legs, sinking down a little lower in the pillows.

Rhys had unbuttoned his pants and was stroking himself slowly as he watched her. His violet eyes sparked with amusement as she dragged her gaze back up to his.

She felt herself grow warm between her legs at the intensity of that stare. The full weight of his attention made her flush as she circled that spot at the apex of her thighs.

“What are you thinking about, Feyre?” he asked, his tone light, taunting. He knew, he just wanted to hear her say it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his gaze drop to the hand she was using to touch herself. “You.”

She circled faster, rougher, and came when he told her to, her orgasm crashing into her with a shuddering wave.

She was breathing hard, slumped against the pillows, when she noticed he hadn’t come yet. Rhys seemed unbothered, and he left his pants unbuttoned as he snapped his fingers and the cuffs around her wrist fell free.

Feeling sleepy and sated, she sat up in the bed.

“Food?” he asked. She nodded.

She hadn’t noticed when he’d summoned the trays and trays of steaming hot food in the dining area adjacent to the bedroom. Her stomach grumbled. She did just want food, and sleep.

She frowned as she approached the table. “Can I—” She blushed, then hated herself for it. She cleared her throat. “Where are my clothes.”

“No clothes,” he said. “Sit.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

He raised his brows. “Would it help if I also took my clothes off?”

She flushed, and then glanced at the humor and mirth in his eyes.

“You’re an arrogant bastard.”

He chuckled, but shrugged out of his jacket, then his shirt. She tried not to ogle the rippling muscles that spanned his chest, the beautiful, harsh tattoos on the golden, sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop the pulse of pleased satisfaction that shot through her.

He stripped his pants off, and she felt her mouth dry as she got a good look at his hard length for the first time. It was huge, and she fought back a shudder at the anticipation of it.

He was grinning as he took a seat at the table, but when she made to take the seat across from him, he shook his head.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Her face grew hot again, but she went around the table to him, and his hands gripped her waist as he guided her onto him. He was so huge, she couldn’t think past the feeling of having him fill her so fully. She gasped as he slid in to the hilt and she was seated on his lap, with him inside her.

The pressure was exquisite, and she started to move on him, but his hands on her waist tightened, and he picked up a fork.

“Eat.”

He had to be joking. She couldn’t think past the roaring in her ears, the single burning need pounding in her core—

“I thought you were hungry,” he said, voice amused again.

Fingers shaking, she picked up her fork. She didn’t taste the food, could barely manage to go through the motion. Rhys was still and unmoving inside her, though every time she started to get a little too comfortable, he shifted in his seat so he moved inside her.

She groaned, dropping the fork.

He clicked his tongue. “Eat,” he said again, and this time, it sounded more chastising.

Her breath was coming out in shaky pants, and she fought back another moan as she swallowed, bite after bite.

She pushed away the plate the moment she was done, and ground against him. He let out a soft groan, and the sound ignited something in her.

“Rhys,” she said his name in plea.

But he only lifted her hips off him, until he slid out of her, and she almost wept at the sudden emptiness inside her.

“You said you wanted to sleep. So sleep.” He looked behind her, to where the bed lay. She didn’t move her gaze from his.

“I don’t want to sleep anymore.” Her hand drifted to his stomach, the hard muscles there, then lower. Lower. She gripped him, stroking once, twice.

He gripped her wrist to stop her. “Sleep.”

When she still didn’t move, he said, “I’ll fuck you while you sleep.”

She shuddered, feeling her body going loose and pliant. Rhys was at her back as she climbed into bed, and her eyes were indeed heavy with sleep, but she managed to capture the picture of him one last time before she drifted off.

Rhys leaning over her, his dark wings splayed wide as he settled between her legs. And that amused grin on his face.

She didn’t know if it was his magic dragging her under the heavy veil of sleep, or whether she was just that tired, but she was asleep within seconds. 

When she woke up, it took her a minute to remember where she was, and why. What had happened. She tried to sit up, then realized she was chained. This time, the restraints were far more practical, the chains much shorter. Her arms and legs were tied to the four corners of the bed, and she could feel a plug and a dildo inside her. 

She raised her head as much as she could and searched for Rhys. For anyone. She was also covered in cum, from her thighs to her stomach to her face, and she knew Rhys could not have done all this. He had brought other people here. Her heart stumbled an uneven beat. 

_What had happened to her while she had been asleep?_

As if summoned by her thoughts, Rhys emerged through the doorway a moment later. “You’re awake,” he said. “Good.”

“What did you do?” 

He laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She wasn’t amused. “Who else was here?”

“Friends of mine. And about every courtier and nobleman in my court.” 

Her pulse began racing. “What?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “They quite enjoyed you, when I was done with you. I told them they could do anything they wanted, so I’m honestly surprised you don’t look worse.”

“I would have woken up if that happened,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, she realized what happened. 

“I may have kept you asleep.” Not drugging. His daemati powers. She’d known it was a possibility. 

“Show me,” she demanded, and to her surprise, he obeyed. Though she quickly realized it was for his own benefit as much as hers, because he wanted to see her reaction. 

Rather than showing her the whole scene, he assaulted her with a series of images in rapid succession. Rhys, fucking her while she moaned, even in her sleep state. Unknown male faces leering at her, then fucking her mouth, coming on her face. A hand groping her ass, fingers pulling and prodding her like she was a prize cattle. Hot wax being dripped onto her while she flinched. Someone whipping her, over and over again. Her panties being stuffed in her mouth, and a huge, towering male thrusting his enormous cock in her while she whimpered in pain. A hand fisting her, stretching her out. Her face and body, drenched with cum. Laughter, from the observers. And more naked girls on display in the room. Rhys had turned this into a revel, with her again being the centerpiece. 

The images stopped, and she blinked against the sudden light. Her heart was pounding in her chest. That had not even been all of it. There had been more of it, she was sure. 

“Which of the images turned you on most?” he asked. Cocky. This male was unbearably cocky. 

“None of them,” she snapped.

It was too late. She’d already thought the image, and Rhys saw it down the bond. “The candle wax. I liked that, too.” 

She wanted to argue, but... she watched Rhys as he grabbed the candle from the low-lying table next to the bed and brought it over her. 

“Let’s play a game,” he said. “I ask questions. If you lie, you get the hot wax. If you tell the truth, you also get the wax, and I’ll fuck you. Anywhere you want.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a fair deal,” she breathed.

“Fair?” He clicked his tongue. “It’s more than generous.” 

“First question: Did you like being used and fucked by every male in this court?”

“No,” she lied. 

He laughed, then tipped the candle over a breast. Right over the nipple, where the skin was still sensitive and bruised. She gasped, but the pain was just a sting. Almost pleasant. She wanted more. 

He pulled the plug out of her rear, and she gasped a little at the strange sensation. She felt suddenly empty, even with the other plug still in her. Rhys held it up to her mouth.

"Suck," he ordered.

Her cheeks heated, but she did. It tasted bitter and vile on her tongue, and she tried to push it out. He laughed, but slid it out, and set it aside.

"Maybe one day I'll taste you here," he said, his finger running over the pucker of her ass. Her cheeks heated further, especially as he said, "Show you how sweet it really tastes."

His hand went again to the wax, and she watched as he brought it over her once more.

“Let’s see if you’re more honest with this one. Who does this pretty little cunt belong to?” His hand cupped her as he talked, and she ground herself against him. Chuckling, he withdrew his hand, leaving her bereft and wanting. 

“Me,” she gasped. 

The wax hit her other breast this time. She moaned, arching her back. 

“Last question. What do you want, Feyre?” He reached down and freed the last remaining plug inside her as he spoke. She gasped, but it had the intended effect. She felt more empty and wet and throbbing than ever, and she would do anything for him to be inside her now.

She met his eyes. “I want you to fuck me.” He tipped the rest of the wax over her other piercing, the one further down. She cried out just a little, and Rhys dropped the candle as he gripped her hip and thrust inside her to the hilt in one stroke. 

“Rhys,” she moaned, and he began moving in her, and she’d never had anyone this deep inside her before. Pleasure sparked in her, cresting rapidly, and she writhed in her chains as he thrust in again, and again, and again, until she was a wet, trembling mess beneath him. He spilled into her with a low groan, and jerked inside her a few more times before he pulled out.

For a long moment, they did nothing but lay there and try to catch their breath. Then Rhys turned to her and kissed her, slow and sweet. The chains vanished, and he grabbed her wrists, rubbing the slight soreness away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, and even now, it heated her blood. 

She only kissed him in answer. Then, after a while, because she was curious, she asked, “How did you plant those images in my mind?” Because they had indeed felt real, though she knew they were not. She’d woken up unmarked, unchanged from when she’d went to sleep. The splattered release on her had been a glamour he had cast.

“I showed you what you wanted to see.” A feline grin. “Did you like it?” 

She blushed, and swatted him away when he swooped in to kiss her on the cheek. 

He laughed, then eyed the piercings on her, and brushed a hand over a nipple. “Do you like them?” he asked softly. 

She glanced down at them, studying them a bit closer than she had had a chance to before. “They’re nice. Maybe we can try them again next time.”

“They look good on you,” he murmured. “I’ll be sad to see them go.” He waved his hand, and the glamour vanished. There was only bare, unmarked skin on her nipples, on her clit. The piercings had been fake, another temporary glamour Rhys had cast. 

“But,” he said, cupping a breast with one hand. “I have to admit, I like them just like this too.” Then he lowered his head to suck the tip of her breast in his mouth. 

She moaned, running her fingers through his hair and tugging as he licked and sucked and nipped at the soft, tender flesh of her. She let him make love to her after that, slow and sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts/comments, or just drop in say hi! at my tumblr @rhysandswhore


End file.
